Probably not.
But in my usual fashion, because I can’t tell her no, I simply say, “Maybe.”
“Oh! I could totally be your manager. You could just do the art side, and I could run the business side.”
Not in this lifetime.
I love her, but Chelsea can’t manage her own allowance from her parents. She’s twenty-four and has already spent her entire trust fund, and her parentsstillgive her ten grand a month for living expenses.
And yet by the middle of the month, she’s broke and asking me for aloan.
Which I always give her.
And I hate myself for it. I know I’m enabling the shit out of her, but damn it, she’s like a sister to me. I don’t have siblings. Just Chelsea. She battled a cocaine addiction for years, and she’s finally clean. She has so much potential—she just doesn’t have any self-esteem.
Because her parents, while filthy fucking rich, are assholes.
“Oh, look!” She points to the side of the room. “A dessert buffet. Let’s be naughty and eat some calories rather than just drink them.”
I blink over at her. “Chels.”
With a huff of her breath, she shakes her head. “Come on,Mom, I want some of that cake.”
I nod at people that I know as we walk through. This is definitely a who’s who of New York’s elite, and I know the only reason I was invited is who my mom is.
“Well, you look delicious.”
I know that voice.
Pasting on a plastic smile, I take a steadying breath and turn to find Howard Tobias Matthews III ogling my tits as he lifts his glass to his lips.
Not champagne.
Bourbon.
His diamond-studded Rolex flashes beneath the cuff of his white dress shirt. He’s in a custom black suit, which molds over his body perfectly.
On paper, Howey is the perfect man.
A Harvard Law grad, attorney with a prestigious New York City firm, tall, dark, and handsome, with a muscled body and an impressive financial portfolio, and he comes from the kind of family that would have hosted grand balls during the Gilded Age.
He’s also a selfish, narcissistic asshole, and I only learned that after I dated him for a year.
“Hello, Howey.”
“Goodbye, Howey,” Chelsea says and flips the man the bird, and I have to press my lips together so I don’t laugh.
Chels always hated this guy.
“Still have your yappy friend by your side, I see.” Howey’s voice is like honey.
If he wasn’t such a monumental asshole, he really would be a catch.
Seeing him makes me feelnothing. I never thought I was in love with him, but I enjoyed dating him. Especially in the beginning, when he was attentive and kind. Sexy. He really was good in bed. He didn’t cause trouble with my detail, and he was respectful to my mother.
And then, it all went to shit so fast, my head spun. So no, I don’t feel anything at all when I look at him. No remorse. No longing or sadness.
“Are you enjoying the exhibit?” I ask him, ignoring the dig at Chelsea.
